


A Good Death

by otapocalypse



Series: Sheith Angst Week 2018 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Care of a Corpse, Death, Gallows Humor, M/M, Post-Voltron: Legendary Defender, Very Gallows Humor, Wakes & Funerals, letting go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 16:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otapocalypse/pseuds/otapocalypse
Summary: It really shouldn’t have been a surprise, not at this point in their lives, when all was said and done, the intergalactic war was long gone, their adventures were over, nothing was coming along to kill them ever again. Except for time.Shiro should have seen it coming. But he’d always believed he’d be the first to die.Not Keith.





	A Good Death

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind this is meant to be a respectful depiction of the care of your loved ones after death. Insensitive comments will be deleted. Several details and some realism have been omitted for the sake of keeping the fic respectful- I think it goes without saying, but just in case, do not attempt caring for your own dead unless you know what you are doing and have fully researched the topic.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise, not at this point in their lives, when all was said and done, the intergalactic war was long gone, their adventures were over, nothing was coming along to kill them ever again. Except for time. 

Shiro should have seen it coming. But he’d always believed he’d be the first to die.

Not Keith.

They weren’t old by any standards yet, but their bodies had been breaking down from day one of that ill-fated - or was it favorable? - trip in the Blue Lion all those years ago. Shiro had started out with the odds stacked against him and, although the Empire had done one thing right in curing him, years of fighting, of existing in space with only the Castle of Lion’s simulated gravity to keep them fit, of surviving solely on food good at times and of stress slowly tearing them apart from the inside out, it was inevitable that one day they’d meet some sort of an end.

They’d given up climbing the staircase in their little home, given up trying to lie flat in bed together all night only to toss and turn, and wake up the next morning stiffer than before. Their old team had been kind enough to carry in a pair of recliners, one covered in a deep black leather, the other a polished mahogany. Keith had pointed out the days of Voltron were long gone, but they’d still gotten a kick out of it.

It was in that beat-up, mahogany chair that Keith sat the morning of his death, sleeping away, his breathing slow and peaceful, until it simply wasn’t anymore, and had ceased to be, and Shiro had awoken to find Keith’s stormy gray eyes gazing calmly at him, one hand outstretched, as if Keith’s dying wish had only been to peer at his husband, lips parted as if to say his name one last time.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. But the shock had still been frigid when it crashed into his heart.

He’d called none other than the Garrison’s funeral services once he’d been able to move again, and as he hadn’t trusted himself to speak at first, Shiro had called Krolia, who came alone, embracing him as if he were her own son, and silently excusing herself after laying eyes on Keith’s body.

They’d sat outside together as the Garrison’s team arrived, staying out of the way as the official time and cause of death were estimated. When he got the results, Shiro could hardly believe them, scoffing despite the situation. A heart attack. After everything they’d survived together.

Shiro looked up at the officer standing before him, then down at the files the man was holding, impassively waiting for Shiro to take the report. He finally did, paging through the notes without reading them. He didn’t have to write it down to know Keith’s position, his location, the state of his body- the state of the corpse read the paper, and he wanted to throw it to the ground.

“His files with the Garrison say he arranged funeral care to be your sole responsibility.” Krolia’s voice came from behind his shoulder. She had peered over, and was reading what had been recorded in lieu of looking at her dead son. Shiro couldn’t blame her. “Are you going to be able to handle it?” She asked softly. Shiro gave a heavy sigh.

“Rigor mortis can set in within hours.” He quoted to himself, under his breath. Keith’s death was a surprise, but his arrangements were not- it’d been Shiro who insisted on them, after all. Once they had gotten back to Earth, the memories of his death, of his body being completely vaporized, had plagued him just as much as anything else. Shiro had never thought he was the type to care what would happen to his flesh once he passed. Not until he had.

_“You want to do what?” Keith was staring at him incredulously, like he’d just grown back his arm._

_“I want to discuss with the Garrison’s funeral home what will be done with our bodies when we die… In my case, again.” Keith had grown uncomfortable at Shiro’s words, had turned his head away as a crease appeared between his eyebrows. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just, whether we want to be cremated or buried. How we want the funeral to be handled. Things like that.” It had taken a bit more convincing, before he finally admitted, “It may sound stupid now, but I…. I do care what happens to me once I’m gone. And to you. I just think it’s something we should prepare for, in case either of us ever has to go through the unthinkable.”_

As it turned out, there was a lot more to it all than they’d thought. It had become an obsession for a time, hours of research into a subject most didn’t dare touch, and Keith had continued to resist- until all at once, he hadn’t. There had been so much to consider- did they have a shared religion? The funeral director wanted to know. Keith had scowled, his perfect face wrinkling. 

_“I’ve never been a religious man.” The director seemed to take this in stride, at least._

_“And what of your family? What did their funerals and rituals look like?” She had asked. Shiro had only closed his eyes, knowing what was coming. Keith had looked her dead in the eyes._

_“My dad was cremated.”_

So it had been a rocky start, but they’d eventually reached a plan that worked for each of them, and despite all the struggling, and confusion, and grief and fear getting there had caused, Shiro clung to it now, lest he be lost to the sea of anguish threatening to overtake him.

“Shiro.” Krolia’s voice came again, softer this time. He turned, his eyes apologetic, and saw the hesitation with which she spoke. “If you need my help… I could try and…” She seemed more like she was going to sick than grieve or help, and Shiro forced himself to speak, to cut her off before she could bury herself further into the depressing spiral they both were falling down.

“I can do it, Krolia. I’ll call you for his wake.” 

They embraced, and he remained outside the shack, enduring the desert heat, until she was gone again, and it was time to face the inevitability of Keith’s mortality- and his own.

Shiro’s return to the cool interior of their home was slow, reluctant, his feet still heavy with shock and grief that hadn’t quite settled in yet. In his hand, he gripped the file he’d been given, and rounded the corner to the living room, bracing himself to see…

Still just a corpse. The only difference he could see was someone had placed a thin towel under Keith’s body. His eyes were still open, his mouth still slack, his hand still outstretched. Shiro couldn’t feel. He slowly approached, lifting his hand, to close Keith’s eyes, the gentlest brush of his palm over the man’s face. His lids slid closed, and then relaxed into a open gaze again. Shiro swallowed, tried again, and got the same result. 

He slowly took a breath- there was no need to panic- and turned, moving to the bathroom and grabbing a white rag, balling it up in his fists as he went. Folding it neatly, he closed Keith’s eyes again, and gently slid the rag over them, keeping them in place. Slowly kneeling next to his husband’s body, Shiro peered at him for a moment- Keith didn’t look shocked, or surprised, or even relaxed, and he certainly didn’t look like he was sleeping. He just looked… dead.

Shiro’s fist tightened on the files in his hand, and he lifted the folder, beginning to carefully page through, until he found the paper he was looking for. _Post Mortem Care and Funeral Plan_ , read the top of the page, with Keith’s scrawling signature marking the bottom, right next to his own fine lettering. Shiro looked over the instructions, sighed, and nodded once. “Okay. Okay, Keith.”

He turned again, leaving Keith where he rested- he wasn’t going anywhere, after all- and dug through their closet, putting on an old, stained shirt and a pair of work jeans that had definitely seen better days. Gloves came next, up to his elbow, rolled in on themselves so that they wouldn’t fall down. When he was standing in front of Keith again, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling incredibly stupid for what he was about to do, before deciding it didn’t matter. The only person whose opinion he’d ever truly cared for was gone.

“Hey, Keith.” He said softly. “Sorry about the getup, but this isn’t exactly our first date, is it?” There was, of course, no answer, and he swallowed against the lump in his throat. “So, a heart attack, huh?” He murmured, moving to gently take Keith’s hand in his own, and kneeling beside him again. “Bet you’re pissed about that one.” He chuckled. “Though you know I always said I didn’t want you going out in a blaze of glory... Guess I got my wish.” The silence stretched on, and Shiro finally patted the hand he was holding, and straightened again.

“I’m just going to clean you up, get you ready for when the others come. Exactly how you wanted- I’m not gonna stray from this, I promise.” He murmured, patting the folder he’d set next to Keith’s chair. “So don’t worry about anything. You just rest now. You…” Shiro swallowed, forced a smile. “You don’t have to fight anymore.”

Despite his joints protesting, it was easy enough- maybe too easy- to gather Keith up in his arms, towel and all, and carry him to their shower, a bench already conveniently in place. Keith had insisted on the thing around the same time they’d stopped climbing the stairs to go to bed.

_“I’m not some old man yet, Keith.”_

_“Yeah, neither am I, but it’s still gonna be a lot nicer sitting in the shower than standing, isn’t it?”_

Shiro should have thanked him for it, but he supposed it would be enough that Keith’s point was only proving correct in many more ways. He gently laid Keith down on the bench, brushing a bit of hair off of the man’s forehead- the dark locks had started showing a salt-and-pepper pattern not unlike his own when he’d first returned to Earth, and it made Shiro smile. Keith was still as beautiful as he’d ever been, even in death.

“Alright. I’m- going to have to take these off.” He spoke again, quietly, his hands moving to undo the buttons on the shirt Keith was wearing. It was far from the worst thing they’d done together- sex had remained intimate over the years, but even that tension and closeness couldn’t compare to now, when Keith couldn’t speak up for himself if something he didn’t like was happening, if something went wrong. Shiro was solely responsible for Keith’s safety and dignity now, and it showed in how carefully he stripped Keith’s body, how gently he talked through the process aloud- “Hey, I’m gonna have to roll you a bit now- Just going to lift your legs so this is a bit easier-”, as each article of clothing was painstakingly removed, folded, and set aside.

Finally, Keith was bare before him, for what would be the final time, and Shiro finally felt tears threaten. 

“Oh, Keith…” He breathed, gently brushing his palm over the scar on his love’s face, the ragged, faded one on his shoulder, a few on his chest, some that riddled his stomach and legs, even the tiny, cross-shaped scar on his hand, a wound a younger Keith had presented to him before Kerberos.

_“Keith! What ...the hell happened?”_

_“I don’t know, okay? I was bored, and there was a scratch there, and I was picking at it, and the next thing I knew I was tracking blood all over my reports…”_

_“Alright, alright. Breathe for me, I’m not angry with you. We can get this taken care of…”_

It was cathartic, in a way, that at the beginning he had been there, taking care of Keith, and now he was still able to do so, even at the end. Shiro stayed silent, his hands still moving, soothing over Keith’s arms, gripping his hands and squeezing gently. 

“Yeah. I’m still here for you. I made a promise, that’s never going to change.” 

He allowed himself another pause, and a deep breath. Tears still pricked the corners of his burning eyes, but Shiro forced them back- he had a job to do. Grabbing another white rag, starting to run water in the tub- he didn’t turn on the shower, wanting to be as gentle as possible- Shiro began to bathe Keith’s body, starting with his face. Slow, smooth strokes of the damp rag over the features of the man he loved so deeply, gentle swabs inside his mouth, over his teeth, inside his ears and nose. The slightest stubble was visible around Keith’s ears and jawline, but it was dark enough that it had Shiro pausing to grab some shaving cream and a razor.

“Hey, how do you shave a corpse?” Shiro asked Keith softly, gently working the lather into the man’s skin. “Very, very carefully,” he answered for himself, lightly drawing the razor over the lather on Keith’s face. The process was every bit as heart-stopping and terrifying as Shiro could have imagined, but nothing disastrous had occurred by the time he patted Keith’s face clean, and he allowed himself to relax.

“I know I should make another sick joke or something to alleviate the tension here, but honestly, I’ve got nothing.” Shiro told Keith breathlessly, leaning back against the wall for a moment and drawing his arm across his forehead. “I hope you’re okay with me continuing.” He added, standing once more. He carefully washed and dried Keith’s long hair, before moving on to each of his arms, washing and drying each before moving on to Keith’s body, and finally his legs and feet. 

“Oils next, right?” Shiro had actually broken a sweat, moving around so much, and he took another moment to rest before he grabbed for the bottles in the bathroom cupboard- Keith, despite always insisting he wasn’t a romantic, had always wanted to smell like roses, and the scent wafted up around the room now as Shiro rubbed the oil between his hands, and began to lightly massage it into his husband's skin.

“You used this same stuff the night of our wedding.” He reminded Keith. “There was a lot going on that night, but if I can remember one thing it’s this smell. We were dancing, and you twirled me, and you were just- all-encompassing. I could touch you, taste you, feel you, hear you laughing, see you smiling, and then you just had to add one final sense to it all, didn’t you?” 

Shiro finished applying the oil all too soon, and turned to wash his hands, taking the moment to ground himself again. Keith was gone. Keith was dead. And he was the one caring for his corpse. 

“Okay.” Shiro breathed out, splashing cool water on his face and leaning against the wall for a moment. “We’re almost there.” He told Keith, to reassure him, but a corpse didn’t need reassuring. “Just gotta dress you up now.”

Another brief departure, and Shiro returned, hanging the suit Keith had kept hidden away for the past decade over the towel rack.

“Your favorite suit, remember?” He murmured, holding up the blazer. It was a rich black, with crimson roses decorating the sides and sleeves. “You're going to look so handsome,” Shiro whispered. “Everyone's going to come to your wake. They'll be so impressed. Wouldn't it be great to see the team one last time? We'll all be here with you…” He placed his hand over Keith's, his eyes closing. “There's no need to be afraid..”

Once Keith was dressed- after several painstaking minutes of carefully lifting, rolling, and guiding his husband's body into the suit- Shiro once more gathered Keith up in his arms, carrying him to bed and laying him down. It was easy enough to guide Keith into a resting position, moving his arms to lie straight alongside his body, his legs together and straight as well. Shiro carefully removed the cloth over his eyes, and breathed softly when Keith's eyes remained shut. Finally, he reached to gently close the man's mouth, grabbing a spare towel, rolling it up, and placing it beneath Keith's chin.

They had decided against using makeup, and Shiro was glad; seeing his husband's face as it was, just this side of showing his age, but still infinitely gorgeous, was soothing, in a way. Keith looked genuinely natural, peaceful, and as Shiro gazed over his body, dressed in his finest clothes and laid out on the bed, he finally broke.

He heard himself crying just before he felt it; a horrible kind of suction deep in his chest, punching the breath out of him with each sob that wracked his strong frame, and Shiro bowed his head over Keith's chest, wrapping his arms around him as gently as he could manage.

“Oh, K..eith…” Shiro managed, breaking off with another bout of sobbing, his throat raw and eyes burning. “What's life gonna be- without you-?” A horrible, sickly snuffle left him, and he choked, pulling away and making a grab for the tissues they kept nearby, blowing his nose loudly. “I know.” He said miserably, the tears still streaming down his face. “I know you want me to go on. And I will. For you. But God above, Keith, it hurts- so- much-” he broke again, the sobs crashing over him in waves, doubling him over, and Shiro tightened his hands into fists as he bowed his head over Keith once again, managing through his cries, “I love you, you, you know that? I will always love you, Keith…” His voice wavered on his husband's name, and he gave in, letting the tears overtake him, endless, painful tremors that dumped more emotion over him each time he dared to believe he could calm down.

Eventually, however, the tears did die down, his breathing slowing, his shaking hands steadying, and Shiro dragged himself up, blinking blearily at Keith, still sleeping, eternal and uncaring, beneath him. Shiro, feeling a million times lighter, took in a slow breath, and hauled himself to his feet.

“Hope you can forgive me for that little outburst.” His voice was scratchy, but his smile warm. “You know how fired up I get about you.”

There was still work to be done- Shiro had promised his love an extraordinary wake, after all- but it wasn't as urgent, and so Shiro politely excused himself to wash his hands and face, removing the gloves, and taking his time to pat his face dry, icing the area around his eyes until the rosy blotches faded away. 

Gathering candles, flowers, and their old incense kit came next, and Shiro spent nearly as much time carefully arranging the flowers around Keith's head and shoulders, in an angelic wreath, setting and lighting each candle around the bed, and finally lighting the incense. His work was done; Keith, bathed in warmth and color, even in death. Shiro couldn't help the fond smile that crossed his face as he gazed at Keith.

“Told you so.” He said softly.

He waited a beat, before pulling his phone from his pocket, sniffling once, and dialing Krolia’s number.

“Hey.” He greeted softly. “Yeah- I managed. His wake is ready. If you could… gather all the others now… Thank you.” He hung up, the memories coming back full force as he waited for the rest of the Paladins to show up.

_“Well, you've certainly accomplished great feats in your lifetime,” the funeral director wasn't looking at either of them as she paged through Shiro’s file with the Garrison, alongside Keith's. Shiro guessed she was still sour about Keith's cremation comment the week before. “But as you never formally aligned with the Garrison or any of Earth's governing forces, I'll have to look into what I can do to get you a military-grade funeral…”_

_“No, no,” Keith had cut her off quickly, “That's okay. My vision is a bit simpler than that…”_

Understatement of the century. Even facing death, Keith hadn't wanted fanfare and attention surrounding his name. All he'd ever asked was for his family to see him one last time, in a calm, controlled environment. Shiro had done the best he could. He only hoped Keith approved. 

The candles he had lit suddenly all flickered in sync, and Shiro glanced up. There was no breeze, he hadn't opened any windows, and the cats had passed long ago. Shiro took another deep breath, his eyes wide as he looked around, and jumped terribly when there came a knock at the door.

The other Paladins, Allura, and Krolia came bringing more flowers, beads, and candles, and Shiro stood aside to let them in, a long line of somber faces that filed into the old shack-turned-house, up the staircase, and into the bedroom. They fanned out around Keith's body, Lance reaching out to squeeze Allura's hand, Pidge letting a tear or two fall. Shiro filed in last, and there came a brief period of shuffling, quiet talking, offers of water, and more decoration of Keith's wake, until finally activity died down, and all focus was once more on Keith's silent body, the mood rather gray once again. Lance was the first to acknowledge why they were there.

“He just had to look good even in death, didn't he?” He joked lightly, earning weak but genuine laugher from the small audience in the room. “We, uh… We each wanna, go around and say a word or two? Shiro?” He deferred to the man's husband, seemingly worried he had overstepped some boundary, but Shiro remained calm outwardly, nodding gratefully to him. “Heh, so.” Lance clapped his hands together softly, his eyes darting around the crowd, not a one meeting his gaze. “Anyone wanna go first?” 

He was met with silence, before Pidge stepped forward, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“I will.” She took a breath to steady herself, and then began.

“Keith…” Her voice shook on the name, but gradually grew steadier, stronger, as she went on, “Your life was a testament to what a good head you had on your shoulders. Your intelligence, your calculations, they were unmatched, and your abilities went beyond what's been studied by science- you could sense things we couldn't even imagine, and we were all the better for it. You were truly extraordinary, and the world's gonna miss you, tough guy.” She forced a smile, more tears spilling from her eyes, and silently stepped back again, prompting a sigh from Lance.

“She's right, you know.” Lance stepped forward, going so far as to place a hand on Keith's arm, prompting a small, soft smile to Shiro's face as he watched. “You were a hell of a pilot, man. A hell of a fighter. You were a true soldier, Keith, and the world needs more men like you.” He paused, patted Keith's arm, and stepped back again. “I'm gonna miss you, Mullet.”

With Pidge and Lance having broken the veil over the room, the others seemed more willing to speak, and Allura was the next to step forward, placing her hand on Lance's shoulder and smiling gently as she passed him.

“Keith… In the face of adversity and injustice, of danger and war and even death itself, your unwavering bravery and devotion to your team marked you as the type of man you will be remembered as; strong, and pure of heart. Your soul will live on in our own. I suspect Coran and Iverson shall be waiting to greet you in the afterlife… They are surely proud of you.”

Hunk attempted to speak then, but he had already been in silent tears, and with the added effort of trying to speak of Keith they only poured freer, his body wracking nearly as terribly as Shiro's had before, and the team gradually gathered around him, Lance and Pidge holding their old friend tightly while Allura and Shiro placed hands on his shoulders, murmuring encouragements to him, until he was able to calm long enough to manage a tearful word.

“Keith, you know about everything you've done for me.” He sobbed, his large hand coming to press his knuckles to his eyes, breath wheezing for a moment, “Your heart will not be forgotten- your team will carry on not just your legacy, but the warmth you gave to everyone around you-” he shuffled heavily, accepting a tissue from Shiro and noisily blowing his nose. “We will pass that warmth on to future generations.” He took a few more shaky breaths as he stared painfully down at his friend, before turning away and retreating back to the line, sobbing softly into a bundle of tissues that grew as Shiro handed them off one after the other. Krolia, who had been silent and still throughout it all, stepped forward now, placing her hands on her son’s body.

“My only child…” She whispered, bowing her head. Shiro could feel her pain. She had lost Keith’s father, countless comrades in the Blade, Kolivan, and now, she was losing Keith. The other members of the audience politely averted their eyes. “I am so sorry. I never should have left you, my love.” She said softly, reaching out to stroke Keith’s graying hair. “I never wanted to part from you, and words can’t describe how happy I was to find you again. I did everything in my power not to waste the second chance I was given by the universe…” Shiro finally averted his eyes, finding his lashes wet once more. She was quietly speaking into existence everything Keith had ever wanted to hear from his parents, and Shiro was drowning again, shutting off the rest of the world in an effort to keep himself together. 

“I am so proud to call you my son.” Krolia said, soft but powerful, finally lifting her head to look at her son’s closed eyes. She hadn’t shed a single tear throughout the entire ordeal, but none could doubt the emotion she felt in that moment. “I love you so much, Keith. Until we meet again, my heart.” She gave a final squeeze to Keith’s hand, before withdrawing again, and all eyes fell on Shiro.

He didn’t need to step forward; like all paths in life, this one opened up as those around him made way. He still approached Keith, one hand over Keith’s heart, one over his hand, and began to speak, surprising himself at how strong his voice was.

“When I first met you, I knew you were going to be something great- but the heroism, the leadership, the courage, and the sacrifice you gave the universe were not what made you so, in my eyes. For me, it was getting to see the little moments in your life- those smiles of barely contained joy, the awkward flirting that turned into an unbreakable bond, that then turned into a deep, unshakeable, undeniable love. I got to see you pick bouquets of wildflowers, see your face light up when you got yet another corny love letter written in red ink. I got to stand by your side, in every aspect of life. That I got to have you, so intimately, your mind, heart, body and soul- that is what I’m going to remember of you, Keith. You are the love of my life, and our journey together is only beginning. I promise to meet you again in the next life, and the next, and forever on, because we are soul mates, Keith, and I know we will always walk together, no matter what comes next.” There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as Shiro slipped his hand into Keith’s and leaned forward, lightly kissing his husband’s forehead.

-

The next day found Shiro and the others in the Garrison funeral home, watching as Keith’s body was loaded carefully into the cremation machine. Shiro looked up as one of the workers met his eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready, sir.”

Shiro nodded, stepping forward to press the button to awaken the machine, and it roared to life.

**Author's Note:**

> “Accepting death doesn't mean you won't be devastated when someone you love dies. It means you will be able to focus on your grief, unburdened by bigger existential questions like, "Why do people die?" and "Why is this happening to me?" Death isn't happening to you. Death is happening to us all.” 
> 
> ― Caitlin Doughty, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory


End file.
